


He Wants Her

by orphan_account



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Guzman is helpless, Light Angst, Mostly Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 05:25:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16278557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Guzman falls for Nadia.





	He Wants Her

**Author's Note:**

> You know why you're here, I know why I'm here. Guzman and Nadia have me a mess up in here.  
> Short and sweet.

He wants her. 

The one with dark hair, long and curled like overflowing ivy, swept grandly away from a face that is the color of desert sand at sunset. A face wide in youth and graceful in detail. Brown eyes that almost appear black, lit up like stars, widening as they peer back at Guzman with something he can’t quite label. 

Is it desire? 

No, something more. 

Beneath her wide-eyed stare sits a strong nose and very beautiful lips—better than Lucrecia's so much better—parted on a word, perhaps an intake of breath, as the water ripples and sways around them, as they sway around one another, animated, all the while as he remains suddenly suspended, it seems. 

Lu's words echo somewhere in Guzman's mind, a proposition- a game, dim and warbled.

"Why don't you seduce her?"

She is beautiful, frozen in time like a portrait as she stares at Guzman. A painting that could have only been created by the hand of God. 

What a vision.

She blinks now, just a soft, almost watery, sweep of the lashes, and her lips close and reopen, her throat bumping with the movement of a swallow. Guzman mirrors her, something caught in his throat perhaps. 

There’s no animosity in her gaze—just something wide and calm and bright and—something's wrong. 

The soft smile that had just been lighting up Guzman's face, promptly freezes before it falls. Falls like wet mud thrown at a brick wall, dripping down in horrifying glops. Falls hard and falls fast as realization hits him. 

"You've been drugged, Nadia." 

Those gentle eyes follow the movement of his lips, her delicate hands gripping at the edge of the pool. Waiting.

"You're high." 

She doesn't seem to register what he's spoken. Guzman sighs before he shakes his head and submerges into the water and swims away. 

He falls asleep to the sight of her beautiful hijab adorned on his pool floor. The pale pink fabric distorted by the depths of the water. 

He wants her. 

-

He regrets the words as they leave his lips. 

"You're no saint either." 

Suddenly, her eyes lift from their reflection in the mirror and land on Guzman, freezing him in time. There’s one poignant moment where they’re just looking at one another, standing across from each other, so close yet so far— they may as well have been worlds apart. 

His words only drive the wedge deeper between them.

"You spread your legs for me in my pool, Nadia."

The hot imprint of her hand remains fresh on his cheek long after the fact. 

-

He wants her. 

But she hates him now. 

So, he tries to make it up to her the only way he knows how. 

She sets unimpressed eyes upon him, "A gift only proves you're an asshole with money." 

It backfires, of course it does. What about this girl had made him think it was going to be that  
easy?

"Go to my parents... ask for leniency on your knees."

She turns her back to him and walks away down the crowded hallway. 

With a frown, he slinks back onto the steps, hands tightening around the parcel, following the creases along the pale pink gift wrap. 

He wants her. 

-

He's standing in her family's tiny living room. 

Guzman could note the now familiar manner in which Nadia's eyes darted around, careful to inspect every millimeter of the room that didn’t include him, her hands white-knuckled and pressed together at intervals, lips pursed, and throat continuously bobbing on a swallow. Her lips were smudgy red, a shade brighter than usual, but her skin was dull and white against the warm light of the small room. 

She's terrified. 

He feels the touch of embarrassment creep up his neck. 

Maybe this wasn't a good idea. 

He gets on his knees, anyway. Ready to do her bidding. “I wanted to apologize for trying to deceive-.” 

Nadia stops him from continuing, grabs him by the arm and drags him away from the watchful eyes of her father. 

Guzman's careful to avoid her curls, just barely resisting brushing them out of her face with the gentle caress of his hand as he’s lead back out of her family’s living quarters.

Her lips are crimson from being bitten and pursed in anger, the hollow of her throat looks dipped in gold beneath the heat of the electric street lights pouring in through the store front. Their eyes remain locked and Guzman swears, just for a moment, that his heartbeat echoes in the dimly lit shop. 

“What’s next, conquering Everest?” She asks, her tone set in disbelief. 

He can only watch, barely a trace of humor releases on an exhale from her alluring mouth. 

She's a work of Art. 

Even when she’s glaring, like she currently is at Guzman. 

“After you, Everest will be nothing,” He says with one corner of his lip quirking. Guzman continues to stare into the depths of her dark eyes, her moving lips and whispered words are but a small blip compared to the sound of blood pumping through his veins. 

“Guzman...,” she sighs and it sounds more exhausted and drawling than vicious. "I don't want anything with you. Because I think you're a bad person." 

Something is liquidy in Guzman, something is syrupy and sticky and unpleasant again inside but he smiles through it, wishing the ease of his lungs could expand into his brain, where a very quiet storm just won’t go away. Biting the cushion of his lip as he drops his gaze, pained. His neck still burns, his hands burn, his ears burn. The tips of his cheekbones feel licked with embers, he’s so embarrassed.

She turns her back to him for the second time that day. 

What’s wrong with him?

-

He’s hungover.

His breath feels entirely too loud as he slowly makes his way forward, careful in his step, watching Nadia standing alone, solitary, lonely, between him and the statue of the headless Angel. A mighty figure, no doubt. But Guzman finds her very secluded. Isolated, almost. Inexplicably, it fills him with sadness, fills him with something he wants to itch away and fix, and so he’s not quite thinking when he picks up his pace and nearly trots down the hall, eyes glued to Nadia from behind his sunglasses.

She’s standing still waiting for him. Smiling… for him. 

She’s wearing the gift he bought for her. 

His claim on her, as small as it may be. 

She's an Angel.

“Nice hijab,” Is all Guzman can muster. A mere soft echo of the thoughts racing through his mind towards the girl that stares back at him with eyes that hold no judgment towards him, not today. 

He wants her. 

“I don’t deserve you.”

He wants her. 

She looks back at him with eyes made of embers. 

“Now you do.” 

She wants him, too.


End file.
